Come Home, a wrestling fanfic

A/N: New fic! It's kinda sorta AU-ish, which is always fun to write. Plus it's featuring Punk, & I like him. Anyway, this was requested by Robin, so I hope you like it, girlie! Hope this makes you feel better.

The song used is "Hurry Home," by Jason Michael Carroll. I had to tweak it just a bit so that I could use it for this. Obviously I don't own the song.

Enjoy, guys.

He's been sitting by the phone since she left
But it's time for work and he just can't be late
So he grabs his old guitar
And he plays a couple bars on the machine
And then he softly sings

Phil sighed as he pulled out his old guitar. Ever since he'd quit wrestling, music was the only thing that kept him sane. That was mostly how he spent his days—playing his guitar and humming songs or zoning in front of the television. His friends always called every day, without fail, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. He'd driven away the one person who he cared about more than anything, including himself.

He could kick himself for feeling this way, because he wasn't the type to feel sorry for himself. He could count on both hands the number of severed friendships and relationships in his adult life, but this was different. Rynne wasn't quite like anyone else he'd met, so of course her leaving threw him for a loop.

But he still didn't feel like the entire thing was his fault. In his mind, some of the words that had been said and the fights were Rynne's fault. She had a horrible temper, and so did he, but he managed to keep his under control. Truthfully, though, it wasn't just one person's fault. They were both to blame for the deterioration of their relationship.

It doesn't matter what you've done, I still love you
It doesn't matter where you've been, you can still come home
And honey if it's you, we've got a lot of making up to do
And I can't hug you on the phone, so hurry home

The night she'd left, Phil and Rynne had fought. It wasn't like one of their regular arguments, either, where they would yell at each other before finally making up. This one had been much, much worse. He couldn't quite remember how it had started, but he'd never forget how it ended. Clothes had been thrown, words had been exchanged, and then Phil had said the one thing he'd vowed to never utter.

"You wanna leave, then leave. Get the hell out of my life."

"You bastard!" the woman had yelled back, stepping closer to him.

"I hate you," he hissed. "I wish I'd never met you."

And he stood there, frozen in his spot, watching as the brunette grabbed a couple of bags and stormed out the door, saying,

"My dad will be over tomorrow to get my stuff."

That was the last he'd seen of her. Rynne's father had come almost exactly when she said he would. He didn't say anything to Phil when he got there, he just snatched up his daughter's stuff and stormed out the door, much like Rynne had. Phil was surprised, because he'd at least figured that her dad would pull the typical protective father act and curse at him or threaten him. But he hadn't.

Another sign that maybe this wasn't the way it should have ended.

Sighing, Phil stared at the phone, almost willing it to ring.

He'd never admit it to anyone but himself, but he missed her. Terribly.

Rynne was huddled inside of a bus station in New York. She clutched her jacket, pulling it closer to her, as she prayed that someone would call her—specifically, Phil. She wiped a stray tear away as she thought about that last fight they'd had. She'd told him that she never wanted to see him again, but she didn't mean it. Right now, she was in a strange city, all alone, with no one to call. When she'd taken the flight to the city, she had thought she had a place to stay. Her aunt had an apartment in upper Manhattan, and she told her niece that she was welcome to stay there anytime.

But when Rynne got there, it had been a different story. The locks had apparently been changed, and the house looked to be bare. So she was now stuck in a huge city, all by herself, with no one to call. She really didn't want to pick up the phone and call Phil, especially after the fight they had, but at the same time, she wanted him to come get her.

Another sigh escaped her lips as she clutched her jacket closer. What was the point in even thinking about Phil anymore? Even if she called him, there was no guarantee that he'd take her back. He was probably already looking for someone else—why even apologize? She was sure that she'd blown it, that they would never be able to repair their relationship.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, to no one in particular. Leaving had been a stupid idea, she knew that, but Phil had made her so damn mad. Both of them had fiery tempers and were stubborn. Rynne was ashamed and angry with herself for letting her pride get in the way of what had been the only good thing going in her life. She had a very strained relationship with her father, and she hadn't seen her mother in years. When she first met Phil, Rynne was afraid of what he'd think of her—after all, he came from a family with money. But he'd openly accepted her, without question, and their relationship became the strongest thing in the woman's life.

Well the days dragged by without a word from her
And it looked like she might not be coming back
People said man don't you think it's time to take that old message off
He said no, you never know when she might call

"Man, don't you think you should just forget about Rynne?" Jeff asked, as he took a drink of his beer. "If she was gonna come back, or call, she woulda done it already."

The dark-haired man shook his head as he pulled out his cell phone, hurriedly checking to see if he had any missed calls or voice mails.

Come on, babe, please call. I'm sorry…I screwed up.

"I can't forget about her, dude. It's my fault she left in the first place…I opened my big mouth and drove her away." He frowned. "Guess you don't know what you got till it's gone, huh?"

"Whatever you say, man," Jeff shrugged.

Phil wasn't about to give up. He couldn't. Not yet, anyway.

She was just outside a bar in New York City
Her so-called friends had left her all alone
She was scared he wouldn't want her
But she dialed up that old number and let it ring
And then she heard him sing

After three days of sleeping on a bench inside the bus station, Rynne decided that enough was enough. She didn't care if Phil thought she was weak for breaking down, and she didn't care if he cursed her out or not. She wanted to come home, and because she couldn't call her parents, Phil was her last resort. At the very least, she would explain to him that she wanted to come home, and that she'd pay him back as soon as she could.

Suck it up and call him, Rynne. You can do this.

She considered hanging up after four rings, and when she heard the voice on the other end speak, Rynne could swear her heart dropped in her stomach.

"Hello?"

"Phil? It-it's me." Rynne's voice was shaky.

For a long moment, Phil didn't speak.

"How are you?" It was awkward, but he was really happy to hear from her.

"Um, not so good," she laughed nervously. "I'm sorry for all that happened between us, I really am." She ran a hand through her tangled hair. "I…for what it's worth, I really don't want us to be over. I want us to fix this." She tried to steady her breathing as she continued,

"Please, Phil, I really am sorry."

"It doesn't matter anymore," the Chicago native whispered. "I still love you. I'm coming to get you…where are you?"

"New York," the woman managed to choke out.
"Stay right where you are…are you safe?"

"Yeah," Rynne replied. "For now, anyway."

"I'm on my way," Phil replied, and hung up.

A little over four hours later, Punk pulled into the driveway. As he stepped out to open Rynne's door, a smile came over his lips. He took her small hand in his, and the two of them made their way into the house, neither of them saying anything. There was no need. It was understood that they were going to work their problems out and change for the better.
The man smiled as he gently ruffled his girlfriend's hair.

He had her back now. And Phil wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.